


feels like we're finally free

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Harry Styles, Basically, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Professor Harry Styles, Recreational Drug Use, Writer Louis Tomlinson, but there's literally like no angst, it's basically not there, it's only mentioned, louis and harry help each other, louis tomlinson tries to write a novel and harry styles distracts him, maybe this could be considered, previous louis/omc, so small, that's the whole plot, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: louis just wants to write a breakup novel. falling in love was never part of the plan, but the cute barista at his favorite coffeeshop makes him think otherwise.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 169
Collections: 1D Fic Fest 2019





	feels like we're finally free

**Author's Note:**

> if you have any questions about any of the tags feel free to reach out to my [tumblr!](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com)  
> artwork by [biconpayne on tumblr](https://biconpayne.tumblr.com/)

Harry has been living in Green Springs for twenty-six years. In that time, three people have moved away, two have gone to college and come back, and one person has moved into the area. Which is why it’s so surprising to him, on a random rainy Wednesday afternoon, to get a text from Liam stating that someone was moving into their little village. 

_Harry, come to game night tomorrow. My friend Lou’s moving to the area and I think you’ll like him. -Liam_

He hadn’t even known there were any houses for sale - that’s how little flow there was in and out of the area.

He’d never intended on living here his entire life, but somehow when it had been time to go away for school, he just never did. He took classes at a college just thirty minutes away, graduating with his bachelor’s and master’s in psychology. He teaches an intro to psych class on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons at their local community college to kids he’s known since they were in diapers. To earn extra cash, he works the night shift on Mondays and Wednesdays, sometimes more days if he’s bored, at the only coffee shop in town. 

Even just five years ago, this would have made him want to pull his hair out. This would have been his own personal hell. He had bigger dreams than a village with less than a thousand people in it. He wanted to go somewhere bigger - New York, Los Angeles, Chicago - but he could never gather the courage. Or the money. Now it felt like he’d put down too many roots to leave.

His own mother and sister moved away when he graduated high school, leaving him the house he grew up in. He’d grown comfortable, with his small house on the only main road in town. He knows his neighbors, he’s got a routine, and he’s got his friends. He doesn’t need much more.

Harry’s mother calls every Sunday, right around dinner time, to ask if he’s met anyone special. Every week, he tells her the same thing. _No_ , he says, _where would I have met anyone_? And she always sighs before telling him he should sell the house and use the money to move on to bigger and better things. 

_Who would even buy the house_? he always asks, and the conversation ends there.

His small town isn’t where he’s going to meet the love of his life, realistically. He knows that. It’s always been in the back of his mind that if he ever hopes to start a family, he’ll need to move somewhere with an actual dating pool. 

When he’d never left after graduation, he gave himself until thirty to enjoy his time in the small town before moving somewhere else to have new experiences and meet new people. Even now, he doesn’t think he’ll be happy spending forever in this small town. He may love it, but they’ve got backwards ideas and he could never fully be himself in a place where he has to hide parts of himself for fear of judgement.

So, he enjoys the time he has left before he’ll move, and lives his days perfectly content, his day to day life never changing much.

Well, until now.

Harry texts Liam back that he’ll be there as he grabs a sweater and heads out the door. There’s almost an instant buzz as Liam replies with a thumbs up. Harry rolls his eyes - there are just some things that don’t require a response.

Instead of Zayn greeting him as he walks through the door, he’s met with an unfamiliar face sitting at one of the tables near the window. Harry doesn’t recognize the man at all, with his shaggy hair falling over his forehead and his laptop covered in stickers - from smiley faces to skateboards to rainbows. He doesn’t seem to notice Harry has come in, despite the bell chiming over the doorway, too busy frowning at his screen and typing furiously.

Zayn’s behind the counter, wiping it off with a rag, and he smiles up at Harry fondly. They’d become quick friends back in high school, when Zayn had shoved a kid tormenting Harry about being gay into a locker. Nobody had messed with him after that, and he and Zayn had formed an easy friendship.

Zayn’s easy enough to talk to, and he’s got a soothing voice that Harry finds nice to listen to. He may not say much, but Harry would probably have been lost a long time ago without him. His roommate, Niall, is the owner of the coffeeshop and the one who usually works the opening shifts. They don’t see each other much at work, but Zayn invites Harry over to their apartment a few times a week for beer and card games. Harry appreciates the gesture.

“Hey, H, was wondering where you were,” Zayn jokes, pointing at the clock. “A whole three minutes late. Couldn’t even believe it.”

“I think your clock’s just fast,” Harry chuckles, walking behind the counter. He debates putting on one of the aprons provided for them to wear, but decides against it. Niall’s the only one who ever wears one, anyway. “I’m never late.”

Zayn only gives him another smile, finally setting down the rag, the signal that he’s done for the day. 

“I was worried you were going to leave me here forever,” he says jokingly. “Poor Niall would be so worried about me, missing dinner and all that.”

Harry frequently wonders if there’s more going on between Niall and Zayn, but he’s never asked because he thinks if they wanted him to know, they would tell him.

“We can’t have that, can we?” Harry likes the easy banter between him and Zayn. It’s always nice to come in and not have to worry about serious conversation. “Go on home, enjoy your evening. See you tomorrow at Liam’s?”

“Always, H,” Zayn says. “Have a nice night.”

Harry thinks that’ll be it - that things will end how they always end, every day. Zayn will leave and Harry will be left to do his own thing. But Zayn surprises him by addressing their only customer, who still hasn’t looked up from his computer. 

“Goodnight, Louis,” he says. “Hope you get past your writer’s block. Maybe bounce some ideas off of Harry, here. He’s a psych professor, maybe he could be useful.”

Zayn doesn’t even wait for the man to respond, who Harry knows now as Louis (and probably Liam’s friend Louis). He just waves and walks out the door, bell dinging overhead, loud in their otherwise silent cafe.

Louis finally looks up from his computer, waving hesitantly and smiling softly, although his eyes still appear troubled.

He doesn’t say anything, and just goes back to typing away at his laptop. Harry wonders what he’s working on that’s got him so frustrated.

They spend the next few hours in silence between them. Harry drinks his nightly cup of decaf coffee and reads his book, turning the pages too loudly for how quiet it seems inside the shop. Louis continues typing and clicking away at his laptop. He still seems just as frustrated, sometimes backspacing aggressively and sighing loudly.

Just when Harry’s starting to think they’ll get to closing time without talking to each other, Louis speaks up. He doesn’t even bother looking up from his laptop screen, but it’s clear he’s talking to Harry, since there’s no one else there with them.

“Zayn said you teach psychology?”

Harry stops reading, halfway down the page, and looks up. Louis isn’t looking back at him.

“Yeah, I teach an intro to psych class,” Harry responds timidly. “Do you need help with something?”

Louis lets out a laugh, but there’s no humor behind it. “I need help with a lot of things. Most importantly, I need help with some characterization, I guess. At this point, I don’t care what you’ve got your degree in, I just need someone new to talk to.”

Harry dogears the page he’s on in his book (a bad habit that would have his mom slapping his hand) and sets it down on the counter. He comes around and walks to the table Louis has set up camp at, bouncing from foot to foot. He’s not sure if he’s welcome to sit down.

Louis ignores him for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only fifteen seconds, still clicking away. He finally stops and looks up at Harry. He furrows his eyebrows and cocks his head. “Are you going to sit down with me? I don’t feel like straining my neck to look at you and have a conversation.”

There’s no bite to his words, nothing harsh to what he’s saying. He pushes out the chair across from him with his foot, gesturing for Harry to take a seat. Harry sits down, unsure of himself. It’s been a long time since he had to talk to someone new.

Sitting across the table, Harry takes a moment to recognize how incredibly beautiful Louis is. He’s got sharp edges and defined lines, but still manages to look soft. Harry thinks Louis’ almost like an abstract painting.

“So, uh, what can I help you with?” Harry asks, trying not to stutter too much. Louis makes Harry nervous, but not necessarily in a bad way. It’s been a long time since something made him nervous in a good way. 

“How much brood is too much brood for a broody character?” Louis finally stops his typing, pushing his laptop away from him. He seems tired. Harry knows the feeling. He chuckles, “Try saying that five times fast. This novel I’m writing is supposed to be angsty and heart wrenching, but this character still feels like too much, even for that.”

“He’s your character,” Harry reminds him. “He can be as broody or not broody as you want to make him. Is it starting to feel like maybe broody isn’t a real word?” Louis gives another little laugh at that, so Harry asks, “Do you want to tell me about them? Your character?” He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries, but he can’t think of another way to help Louis.

He sighs heavily. He seems to be doing a lot of heavy sighing. Harry just wants to make Louis smile more.

“Broody doesn’t seem like a real word, you’re right,” Louis agrees. “Is it a real word am I making it up? All words seem kind of fake right now.”

“I’m like ninety percent broody is a real world,” Harry assures him. “Maybe this is a sign you need to take a break, for your own sanity.”

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. His soft looking hair falls over his forehead and he sighs _again_. 

“I told my publisher I was coming here to write something great. I’ve been here two days and I’ve written pure crap. I thought the best art came from tragedy and heartbreak, but this is some of my worst work to date. Nothing seems to inspire me. At least, not in the way I need it to.”

“Not in the way you need it to?” Harry wonders what exactly that’s supposed to mean. “I think a break is the only thing you need right now. I’m actually worried for your sanity. Let me make you a cup of decaf, tea or coffee, your choice. Please.” He locks eyes with Louis, hoping his expression comes off as concerned.

Louis’ shoulders slump in defeat.

“I think you’re right. I’ve been here all day. I wanted my characters to be lovable assholes, but they’re just assholes. Not a redeeming quality in either of them. One of them has to be lovable, otherwise it’s just a shit story about assholes.”

“A shit story about assholes? I think I’d read it.” Harry can’t help himself, chuckling at Louis’ words. He sends the man a warm smile before standing up to make them both a cup of tea. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” comes Louis’ voice from behind Harry, and it sounds like he might be smiling or biting one back. Harry doesn’t want to ruin whatever’s going on between them by turning around, but he’s happy that he might have made Louis’ day just a little bit brighter. “Thank you for listening to me. You and Zayn have both been so nice to me, despite having only just met me. Makes a boy feel real special.”

Harry finishes the tea and grabs their cups, spilling some over onto his fingers and burning himself in the process. He sends a quick prayer that maybe Louis didn’t notice, but unfortunately he’s never been too lucky. Louis lets out a gush of air through his nose and smiles in a way that causes crinkles to form near his eyes.

“You almost seem like you’ve not quite grown into your body,” Louis jokes, taking one of the cups from Harry’s hands. Harry smiles gratefully and sits down again, admiring Louis sitting in front of him. “Like a young deer or something.”

“Or something,” Harry replies, and he can’t even try and force away the smile that tugs at his lips. It’s as if some force is taking the corners of his mouth and pulling upwards and he’s useless to try and stop it. He hasn’t felt this way in a long time. “How long are you here for? Is this going to be your designated writing spot?” He doesn’t want to come across as intrusive or eager, but he can’t keep himself from asking.

“I’ve actually moved here for the time being,” Louis says, voice growing quieter. The shift in his mood is immediate and noticeable. Harry wonders what he’s done wrong. “I’m crashing with Liam until I can find my own place, so at least his guest room is getting some good use.”

Harry wants the carefree air of their conversation from earlier to come back. It’s almost painful to see how uncomfortable Louis is now. 

“Well, welcome to Green Springs,” he says, aiming for lighthearted. “We’re happy to have you as long as you’ll stay.” He flashes a smile that he hopes comes off as charming, but his anxiety tells him is probably creepier than it is endearing.

Louis doesn’t relax completely, but the tension in his shoulders does seem to wash away at Harry’s words. “Thank you, that means a lot. It was kind of the worst to move here, but I was in a tough spot and Liam has been a good friend for a long time. He’s the only one I felt that I could turn to. Now I see that some good may be coming out of an otherwise shitty situation.”

“Hmm, yes, small towns are good inspiration for novels,” Harry agrees, assuming that’s what Louis means. He’s always felt more inspired here than anywhere else he’s ever been. “Tomorrow you’ll have to tell me what exactly you’re writing about. Think of it as payment for all the free coffee, tea, and criticism you’ll be getting from me.”

Louis hums in response, fingers tapping on the table next to his laptop. “I suppose. Although, I don’t expect free things from you. But thank you. I appreciate it. Really. I guess I should be going, though.”

Harry wants to grab Louis’ fingers in his own and wipe away whatever’s wrong. He can tell something is plaguing Louis, and he’s hopeful they’ll grow comfortable enough with each other over time to share things like that. Harry really hopes so. He’s already too fond of Louis for his own good. He wonders if he’s setting himself up for heartbreak.

As Louis packs away his laptop and finishes his lap sip of tea, Harry realizes he doesn’t care.

Harry wishes he didn’t struggle with anxiety. Often, it stops him from doing the things he really wants to do in life. It’s one of the main reasons he hasn’t spread his wings and moved out of Green Springs. If he weren’t such ana anxious person, he’d at least start to travel. The only time he’s even been out of state was to visit his mom and sister, and Maine and Florida aren’t the most adventurous of places. He wishes he was brave enough to go out and have real experiences.

Liam sometimes invites him on short trips, just a weekend away in the state over doing something or another. Sometimes he says he’s just going to a museum and sometimes he says something about camping - he owns a cabin or something. He also makes sure to let Harry know that Niall and Zayn would be coming too, but Harry’s never joined them. The best he’s ever managed was going to an amusement park a couple hours away, where he had spent most of the day worried about the stares of other people he felt on his skin.

He’s not too sure why his friends put up with him. He knows he doesn’t add much excitement to their lives. In fact, he knows that he’s probably just holding them back from living to their full potential. They’re some of the only young people in the area, save for Harry’s students, and they should be out having fun and living their lives while they can. Instead, they indulge Harry and have board game and movie nights. Harry frequently contemplates if they resent him.

Logically, he knows that at the very least, Zayn’s not the type of person to hang around someone he doesn’t like. He wouldn’t keep inviting Harry over if they didn’t genuinely enjoy each other’s presence. This does little to knock out his anxiety, however.

He often wonders when his anxiety started, but there was never really a moment when he thought, “ _Oh shit, I have anxiety_.” He figures he’s always kind of felt this way, and sometimes it’s worse than other days. It’s not like it ever really goes away. He saw someone explain it once like that feeling you get when you’re leaning back in a chair and it starts to slip out from under you - except that it’s that feeling all the time. Harry wouldn’t say it’s always that extreme, but he often gets this turning in his gut that he can’t find a cause for, and he knows his blood pressure and heart rate are way too high for a guy as healthy as he is.

He manages.

Mostly.

He’s figured out which coping mechanisms work best for him over time. He has breathing techniques and grounding exercises that he has to use maybe once a day.

Which is how he finds himself changing into a pair of tapered sweatpants and a plain t-shirt and grabbing his yoga mat. Normally, he would just walk to the gym, only living a few blocks away, but he thinks tonight might be a nice night to take the long with the windows down. He’s always found driving to be therapeutic.

He arrives at the gym about an hour and a half before the gym’s set to close for the night. Harry knows it’s probably Liam working, and that he’ll want to have some sort of conversation with Harry like they always do. He’s not in much of the mood, but he always makes an effort for Liam because he’s such a good friend.

He parks his car and makes sure to grab his headphones, bright pink and with a flower sticker on each each, and his yoga mat before going inside. The gym is empty, like it usually is this time of night, and Harry couldn’t be more grateful. There’s no one at the front desk so he just walks inside, heading to where the only studio is in the back of the gym. During the day, classes are taught inside, but after six Harry is free to do his yoga in there, away from judging eyes.

Except. There’s someone in the studio when Harry walks in.

Two someones, actually.

One, he recognizes as Liam, scrolling through his phone, disinterested in what’s happening before him. The second person takes Harry a second, but he realizes it’s Louis, doing pushups on the floor next to Liam. He looks adorable with his hair pushed back in a headband. Harry doesn’t even need to see his face - he just knows.

“Oh, hi,” Harry mumbles, feeling awkward. “Fancy running into you guys here.”

Liam looks up from his phone, smile immediately overtaking his face. “Harry! I haven’t seen you in a minute. I was actually thinking of sending you a text.”

Harry doesn’t know why he hadn’t wanted to talk to Liam before. The man immediately puts him at ease, warm brown eyes and calm demeanor. Him and Zayn are quite alike in the feelings they evoke in him.

Harry cocks a half smile, setting his tings on the ground by the doorway.

“I’ve been busy. I had a burst of energy and thought I’d stop in tonight. Also, I’m avoiding grading papers.” He turns to Louis, who’s stopped doing his pushups and has rolled over, laying on his back and breathing heavily. “Are you training with Liam? Bad idea. I did that once. Only once, and I’ll never do it again.”

“Harry complained about his legs for three days,” Liam adds with a snort.

Louis laughs quietly at that, still trying to catch his breath. Harry doesn’t know how to feel at the sight before him, Louis all sweaty and panting and laying on the ground. (He feels hot all over, like he’s burning from the inside out). Breathlessly, Louis says, “Sounds like you’re weak, Curly.”

“Hey, maybe I am. Nothing wrong with that,” Harry protests weakly. He bends over, flipping his hair over his head so he can easily pull it on top of his head in a bun. “Seriously, why have you agreed to this torture?”

Liam answers for Louis. “We used to work out all the time when we played soccer together in college. Louis thought he could still keep up. We’re not even halfway through, so I’m seriously doubting that. Were you wanting to use this room for yoga? We can leave.”

“What-” Louis goes to say something, maybe protest that _Harry_ should have to be the one who finds somewhere, but Liam just gives him a look that Harry can’t quite decipher, and it shuts him right up. “We were done anyway.” He stands up, dusting himself off and offering a hand to Liam. “Maybe we can do sunrise yoga together sometimes.”

Harry doesn’t have a comeback ready, witty or otherwise, before the two boys leave the room.

He’s not sure how his normal yoga routine is supposed to calm him down when Louis is all he can think of.

Louis becomes another soothing presence in Harry’s life. He fits in easily to their friend group. He laughs with Niall, smokes with Zayn, and he and Liam have a strong history.

Louis and Harry spend the most amount of time together, between their hours in the coffee shop talking about nothing during Harry’s shifts and how they’ve started going to the gym together a couple times a week. Louis still refuses to partake in Harry’s yoga routine, but it’s not uncomfortable for them to work out in the studio together.

Harry hasn’t brought up his anxiety with Louis, only having known each other for a few weeks, but he sometimes feel like Louis just _knows_ . Like he knows that sometimes he needs to rub a hand on Harry’s back or they need to sit in silence for an hour. He’s never met someone who just _gets it_ so easily.

They’re currently sitting in the coffee shop, an hour until close and the sun far past set, when Louis finally brings it up.

“Harry, are you okay?”

If anyone else had phrased it that way, maybe Harry would be offended. Instead, Harry appreciates the way concern seeps into Louis’ tone and his words. He knows Louis probably understands how to be gentle, having so many younger siblings, and it’s not strange to see.

Despite how comfortable Harry’s become around Louis, he can’t help himself when he feels his shoulders tense up. He watches his knuckles go white around his coffee cup, long empty by this point. It’s not anxiety, per se, just a discomfort at talking about these things in general. It’s why he can only meet with his doctor roughly once a month. Any more than that and he’s unable to say the things he wants. He’s got to wait until he’s about to explode with it.

“You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want me,” Louis assures him. “I just sometimes feel like there’s a heavy weight on your shoulders and I don’t think anyone should have to carry weights like those by themselves.”

“I don’t really talk about it,” Harry says. He’s not sure what to say. As always, he struggles to find the words to talk about the way he feels. “I’m not unhappy, or anything. It’s not depression. I just. I get nervous. That’s it, really.”

Louis purses his lips and opens the laptop in front of him. “Thank you for sharing. That means a lot to me, actually.” He doesn’t say anything else before he’s typing away on his laptop. He still hasn’t shared with Harry what exactly he’s writing, but sometimes they’ll be having a conversation and Louis will just stop, mid sentence, and begin typing because he’s gotten inspired.

“I know you won’t judge me for these kinds of things, so I don’t want you to think that’s why I don’t talk about it.” Harry isn’t even sure if Louis is listening at this point, eyes narrowed and typing aggressively. He must be really inspired. Harry has noticed Louis will type differently depending on how confident he is about what he’s writing. If he’s on a hot streak, it’s as if he can’t type fast enough. He once told Harry that sometimes when he goes back to read paragraphs he wrote while really inspired, he doesn’t understand some of the typos he’s made, so whole sentences become useless.

Louis glances his eyes up, soft and blue as always, and throws a warm smile in Harry’s direction, all the while never stopping his fingers on his keyboard. Harry goes back to reading, a habit he’s starting to neglect now that he’s got someone to distract him from it during shifts, and they fall back into the comfortable silence from before.

“I think you should shut the fuck up before I flip this table, honestly.”

Louis’ being dramatic, his usual state of being, because he’s losing in _Uno_. He’s been hit with another Draw 4 card from Liam he’s not too pleased. While his words are harsh, Harry can only find it endearing. He hopes he’s not staring too fondly at Louis.

“This is why we don’t like inviting you to game night,” Liam says matter of factly, holding tightly to the only card left in his hand. It’s been a bloodbath between Liam and Louis all night long, everyone else just along for the ride. “You’re too sore of a loser.”

“Kiss my ass,” Louis says, setting his cards face down and leaving back with an eye roll. Harry can’t even stop himself before the giggle leaves his mouth. Louis snaps his head to the side, playful anger in his expression. “What’s so funny, Curly? Do you want a piece of this too?”

Harry shakes his head, biting his lip in hopes that it’ll keep his smile back. He looks at his cards to see if he’s got anything that plays. He doesn’t. Smile not dropping from his face, he picks up another card from the pile and zones out while it goes around the table again. He knows Liam’s going to win, just like he has every round they’ve played. Liam usually wins most games they play.

Harry’s the only one who doesn’t really care about Liam’s winning streak, but Louis is the only one who is so vocal about it. The others just roll their eyes and sometimes make a snarky comment. It’s all in good fun, really.

Finally, it makes it back around to Liam. He sets his last card down on the pile and leans back, smugness written all across his face as Louis throws his hand of cards across the table.

“You’re a cheater!” Louis exclaims, huffing overdramatically. Harry’s too fond of it all. “Now I remember why I used to come up with excuses to miss game night during school.”

Harry snorts. “Well, I’m happy you’re here now. Even if you’re probably uninvited from all future game nights.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” Louis says, reaching over to pat his knee and give it a quick squeeze before letting go. Harry feels warmth radiating from the spot, hot enough that he wonders if anyone else can feel it. 

Niall’s laughing in the background and Liam and Zayn are saying something, but they’re in their own little world. It’s all too easy to fall into each other, whether they’re alone in the coffeeshop or sitting at their friend’s kitchen table.

“Lou, you’ll be invited back if you pick up all the cards you threw,” Zayn says, face nonchalant but laughing evident in his tone. “That’s all it’ll take.”

Liam looks like he wants to say something else, but thinks better of it when Zayn shoots him a look. Harry’s starting to think that maybe it’s not Niall and Zayn that have a thing, but _Liam_ and Zayn.

“Thank you for being so gracious and sparing me,” Louis says, scooping all the cards into a pile in front of him. He takes his time turning them all the correct way and straightening them into a neat stack. 

“I would say game night’s over, but we still have a shit ton of beer. Anyone down for drinking games?” Niall asks, finishing his own can of beer before standing up. He doesn’t even wait for a response before he’s heading into the kitchen and returning with the rest of the alcohol and some solo cups.

“Could be fun,” Zayn says with a shrug. “I’m down if everyone is. Harry?”

Harry feels like a deer caught in the headlights. While he’s sure drinking games are fun, he’s never actually played any. He never lived on campus during his college years, so he was never dragged to any wild parties. He did his best to avoid parties at all cost, really. He isn’t sure how to answer.

“You can be on my team,” Louis whispers in his ear. “I won’t let you make a fool of yourself.” He punctuates his sentence with another squeeze to Harry’s knee.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” He can give a million reasons why not, but he can’t think of a single one with Louis’ hand still on his knee. “We’ve got an uneven number though. How’s that work?” Maybe they’ll say someone will need to sit out and referee, or something.

“I’ve got an early morning training session, so I’ll just sit out,” Liam volunteers. Ever the nice guy, definitely the mother of the group. Harry can’t even be mad at him. “I’ll make sure Louis behaves himself.”

Harry hadn’t even thought about the fact that Louis is competitive. What was he going to do when he realized Harry didn’t even really know the rules to most of the drinking games, let alone how to _actually_ play them? He was going to yell, and Harry didn’t do well with any kind of yelling, especially when it was directed at him.

“I’m going to be a perfect gentleman,” Louis huffs indignantly. “How could you even suggest otherwise?” Again, another squeeze to Harry’s knee. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take before he spontaneously combusts. It’s the only probably outcome. “Which game are we playing, fellas? Just regular old beer pong?”

Zayn nods in agreement. “I think it’s best. Don’t want to overstimulate our poor Harry here.” There’s no maliciousness in his voice, and the words actually come out surprisingly fond. Once again, he finds himself eternally grateful for Zayn and how he knows exactly how to be around Harry. 

“Perfect, let’s set it up then.” Louis removes his hand from Harry’s knee, but not before giving it one last comforting squeeze. He claps his hands together and jumps up. He’s all excited energy and it can’t help but rub off on Harry. As Louis begins setting up the cups in the order they’re meant to go, Harry can’t help but think of him as tornado, running around and leaving a mess everywhere he goes. But then Harry shakes that from his head - Louis doesn’t leave a _mess_. He may only have known the man for a short amount of time, but he’s not messy. 

He’s perfect, running around like a tornado, but fixing things in his path. Fixing things like Harry.

By the times Harry’s finished up his thoughts, the cups are all set out on the table and a ping pong ball is being placed in his hand. He starts to panic, unsure of what’s happening, and looking for one of them to at least explain some rules to him.

Louis sees his frantic expression and immediately rushes to calm him. “I’m not asking you to do anything yet. Just hold on to that for a second. I’m going to pour some beer into the cups, and then I’ll come explain the rules to you. No need to worry.” His reassuring smiles tell Harry just that - no need to worry.

If Harry were with any other group of people, his cheeks would be bright red with embarrassment. Instead, he’s actually kind of excited so long as Louis doesn’t get mad at him for being the worst beer pong partner ever.

When Louis finishes pouring beer into each of the cups, Niall and Zayn have done the same thing on their end. He turns to Harry and places his hands on Harry’s shoulders. His facial expression is serious, but he’s fighting back a smile, lips twitching at the corners. 

“This is no laughing matter,” Louis says firmly, and then lets a laugh slip past his lips. “It’s a simple concept, with a lot of hidden rules. We’ll tell you the hidden rules when they come up, but all you need to do is get the ball in the cup. Got it?” Harry nods and the game is one.

Louis sinks the first ball in and he actually high-fives Harry afterwards. Harry is nervous for his for his throw, unsure of how hard to even toss it, but at this point he doesn’t think anything could bring down his mood. He’s having fun with his friends.

He takes his shot and surprisingly makes it in. Louis cheers and claps him on the back, running the palm of his hand across his shirt, giving his hip a tight squeeze. Harry would do this until the end of time if it meant Louis would touch him this much.

The game manages to keep a fast-pace, with both Zayn and Niall missing their first few shots, and Louis sinking every one he tries. Harry misses a few, but manages to make more in than he expected. Finally, Louis and Harry only have one cup left they need to make it into, but Zayn and Niall have four more cups laying on the table. 

Harry’s feeling a lot more relaxed, and he suspects it has more to do with his partner than the cups of beer he’s had to drink.

Louis makes the ball into the last cup standing and pumps his fist into the air. He turns to Harry, looking like a child on Christmas morning, and almost yells, “Okay, basically, you have to make this.”

Harry widens his eyes, taking the ping-pong ball from his outstretched hand. “What if I miss?”

“I’ll never forgive you, I think,” Louis says. He claps Harry on the shoulder and spins him to face the table. He leans forward and whispers into his ear, “I know you can do it.”

Harry nods, but he doesn’t feel nervous. He knows this is all in fun, and Louis may flip the table if they lose, but they’d probably still stay friends. 

Taking a deep breath and ignoring the cheering coming from Zayn and Niall, Harry takes aim and throws the ball in the direction of the cup.

By some stroke of luck, he actually makes it.

He barely realizes the ball has gone in before Louis is jumping into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist and squeezing tight. Harry grabs his thighs, holding onto Louis to keep him from toppling over.

Louis presses wet, smacking kisses all over Harry’s face, and yells, “I love you, you gorgeous fool!” He throws his hands into the air, holding on to Harry with nothing but his legs. Harry grabs his thighs tighter, trying to keep Louis from toppling over backwards. They’re both _beaming_ at each other. “Best beer pong partner I ever had. Take that, Liam!”

Liam sighs loudly, and Harry can basically hear the eye roll.

Finally, Louis jumps from Harry’s arms, but reaches up and plants one last loud, wet kiss on his cheek. Harry instinctively reaches his fingers up to the spot, smiling as he watches Louis dance around. He really does seem to love winning.

Harry starts to wonder if he feels something more than just fond for Louis.

Louis has bad days.

In the two months that Harry has known him, he has about one every other week. They’re distinguishable because he doesn’t greet Harry when he comes in for his shift. Which, isn’t always out of the norm. Sometimes Louis is too in the zone with his writing to greet Harry. He’ll get to it.

On his bad days, though, he won’t even talk to Harry when he’s done typing. He’ll let his tea cup sit completely full on the table, likely cold, and just stare out the window. Harry always wonders what he’s thinking, but never asks.

This particular Thursday seems to be one of those days.

Harry’s come in, having taught a wonderful lecture and received good news from the dean of his department, and he wants nothing more than to share it with Louis. He walks in, smile wide on his face, and goes straight to Louis’ table.

Sitting down, he clasps his hand in front of him, biting his lip to try and keep his smile at bay. He knows it’s not working, and he can feel his dimples set deep into his cheeks. He looks patiently at Louis, waiting for the man to finish whatever he may be typing so Harry can share his news.

Louis immediately stops typing, but doesn’t look up. Harry knows instantly that something has to be wrong. He unclasps his hands and tentatively reaches one out to Louis, stroking a finger over one of his clenched fists.

“Lou?” Harry whispers. He’s not sure why he’s whispering, except maybe that he’s afraid Louis might run away if he speaks too loudly.

Louis finally looks up and Harry can see that he’s been crying. Or still is crying. Either way, his eyelashes are wet and clumped together and his nose is red and runny. Harry doesn’t wait for Louis to say anything before he stands up and goes around the table, bending down and wrapping Louis within his arms. He breaks into sobs, shaking in Harry’s arms. Harry wants to cry _for_ him. His heart breaks as he watches Louis fall apart while all he can really do is hold on.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Harry mumbles into Louis’ hair. He rubs his hands up and down Louis’ arms as he continues to hold him. “I know sometimes it’s just better to cry. I get it.”

Louis sniffles and shifts in his seat, turning around in Harry’s arms. “I’m not always fair to you, I think.” He sounds so small, looks even smaller. Harry’s heart continues to break into pieces. “You’ve been so honest with me. I feel like I’m always lying to you.”

“Well, are you lying to me?”

“No,” Louis admits. He wipes at his running nose with his sleeve.

“Then shut up,” Harry says with a quiet laugh. He pulls Louis in for another tight hug. “You tell me what you want to tell me. I don’t expect more. Unless you’re a criminal, I guess. Then I might be a little upset.”

Louis giggles, an actual fucking giggle, and looks up at Harry. His eyes are wet and red, already swollen from his tears, eyelashes stuck together in clumps, darker than normal. The end of his nose is pink and he’s snotty and it shouldn’t be endearing, but it is. Harry wants to hold on to him forever.

“No, not a criminal,” Louis confirms, wiping his nose again with his sleeve. Harry untangles himself from Louis and grabs a handful from napkins from the counter, offering them to Louis in place of his sleeve. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles. He blows into the napkin, and Harry thinks he sounds like exactly like a trumpet. It should be gross, but once again Harry is enamored. He seems to always be enamored by Louis. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you why I’m like this.”

“Maybe one day I’ll read what you’re writing,” Harry teases, sitting down in the chair opposite Louis. He doesn’t even bother with the pretense of pretending to work. It used to be that Harry would come in for his shift, say hi to Zayn, restock some napkins or sugar packets, but now he doesn’t even pretend. He always just comes straight to Louis.

“I think I might email you a snippet sometime,” Louis says. “Maybe that might help explain why I’m like this. I don’t want you to read all of it, especially because it’s still in the roughest stage. I also don’t want to know when you read it. That’s too much.” He takes a sip of his tea. He makes a face when he realizes just how cold he’s let it get.

Harry snorts. “I’d like that, Lou. Also, let me get you another cup of tea. Can’t believe we give you free tea and you waste it.” He stands up, taking Louis’ cup from his hands, and crosses the room. He hums quietly while he prepares Louis’ tea just the way he likes. Within in a minute, he’s back at the table with a new cup. “Here. No more cold tea for you.”

Louis hums his appreciation, holding the mug in both of his hands. “Thank you. Thank you for what you do for me.”

“I don’t much. Mostly I just don’t do my job and distract you from your writing process.” Harry shrugs his shoulders, embarrassed. He really must seem lazy to Louis. “Actually, I had some news I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Louis exclaims and snaps his fingers excitedly. “You were all antsy when you walked in. Sorry I had to be so down. Hope I didn’t ruin it for you.” His excited expression quickly turns sheepish.

“Never,” Harry assures him with a small smile. “I wanted to let you know that they’ve released the courses for next semester and they’re letting me teach another class on top of intro to psych. It’s all about developmental psychology.”

“That’s incredible,” Louis tells him earnestly. His face breaks into a wide smile. Harry loves when Louis smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners and lips stretching thin. It’s one of his favorite things about Louis, easily. “I know you’re an amazing professor.”

Harry snorts. “How could you possibly know that? You’ve never seen me in the classroom.”

“Because you’re amazing at everything else.”

Harry has nothing to say back. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek to keep the pleased smile off of his face. He’s never met anyone who makes him feel the way Louis does. It’s overwhelming and not enough all at once. It’s like waves crashing over him, not giving him enough time to recover. It’s incredible.

He can’t help himself from thinking, “ _I love you_.”

“Tell me about your family?” 

Louis glances up from his empty teacup, a surprised look on his face. He cocks an eyebrow. “What do you want to know about them?”

“Anything you want to tell me.” Harry shrugs. “I feel like I know you so well, but there’s still so much missing.”

“My family are amazing,” Louis says. “I talk to them at least once a day on the phone. It’s hard being so far away from them.”

“Your face lights up when you talk about them,” Harry observes. “I don’t know if you knew that.”

“It’s interesting the things I learn about myself when talking to you, Curly.”

Harry blows air out of his nose in a pseudo-laugh and closes his eyes, feeling the way his dimples set into his cheeks. When he opens his eyes again, Louis is staring right at him, contemplative look on his face.

“What?” Harry asks, worried that he’s gone and done something wrong.

Louis shakes his head, almost as if manually clearing his thoughts. “Nothing. I just feel like I can trust you. Like I _want_ to trust you.”

“Do you not want to trust me?” Harry asks, confused.

“Okay, so-” Louis cuts himself off and lets out a deep breath through his mouth, cheeks puffing and then deflating. “Okay, so. I moved here because I had to. Or, well, like. I didn’t _have_ to, but it felt like if I didn’t I would have suffocated.”

“You’re not making a whole lot of sense, Lou.” Harry wants to reach across the table and grab his hand, stop it from shaking the way it is. “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about.”

“No, like.” Another deep inhale, another shaky exhale. “I want to tell you. Which is like what I’ll get to eventually, maybe. So. I was dating this guy for, like. Years. And I thought we were gonna get married, right? I thought this was it for me.”

Harry figures he can work out where this is going, and his heart drops to his stomach. More than ever, he wants to reach out and grab Louis’ hand, just to let him know that it’s okay. He settles for nodding, a signal for Louis to go on.

Louis continues, “I thought he felt the same. We had been together for so long and we had talked about the future so often. I bought a ring. I tucked it away in one of my desk drawers. I didn’t think he’d find it until the time came. I just feel so-” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head.

“Lou, if you don’t want to talk about it, don’t.” Harry finally reaches across the table and grabs Louis’ hand, and the shaking stops. This seems to be what Louis needs to refocus, squeezing Harry’s hand back and settling more firmly in his seat.

“We’d talked about getting married,” he says. “I wouldn’t buy a ring if that was a conversation we’d never had. I was going to do it after my book launch, when we would have time to maybe go away for a weekend in celebration if he said yes. He found the ring.”

“And it didn’t go well?” Harry prompts, sensing Louis’ hesitation to continue on.

“It didn’t go how I’d hoped, no.” 

“Lou,” Harry says, barely more than a sigh.

Louis blinks rapidly, a sure sign he’s fighting back tears. “He told me seeing the ring made it feel too real. It made him realize that a future with me wasn’t something he actually wanted. He had spent all this time thinking he was happy, but seeing the ring made him realize he was only going through the motions of our relationship.”

“How long ago was this?” Harry asks.

“About four months before I moved here.”

“How are you doing now?”

Louis smiles softly. “Better every day, actually. I had to leave my hometown because I couldn’t stand to see him every day. We had the same friends. We didn’t end poorly, either, so it was hard to hate him. He didn’t cheat or do anything wrong. He just realized how he felt about me. I had nothing to hold against him, so moving on was too hard to do. I felt like I couldn’t breathe with him around, and that wasn’t good for either of us. He felt guilty for moving on and I felt guilty for making him feel guilty.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” It’s the only thing to say that feels appropriate.

“I definitely feel like I should be the one thanking you,” Louis says. “You make me want to stay.”

The chiming of the bell draws Harry’s eyes away from his book. His back cracks as he pushes away from the counter and straightens up. It’s been a while since he’s read a book behind than counter and not at what he considers Louis’ table in the corner. 

Louis had texted and said he had some errands to run, and he wouldn’t be making it in. Harry tried not to feel too disappointed, but Louis had so easily become an important part of his daily routine. Every Monday and Wednesday, like clockwork, when Harry comes in for his shift, Louis is holed up in the corner and either typing away furiously or glaring at his screen. 

A lovely young couple disturbs him from his thoughts, both ordering sweet cappuccinos and giggling over secret jokes Harry could never begin to understand. They drop a few dollars in the tip jar and thank him before heading back out the way they came, leaving the coffeeshop just as empty as it had been five minutes before.

Leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

While Louis wasn’t going to be stopping in, he did invite Harry to hang out. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t even hesitate. He would be so excited to spend time with Louis, _but_. Louis mentioned that he and Zayn were planning on smoking some, and he welcomed Harry to join. 

Harry’s still thinking of the best way to turn him down.

Not that he wouldn’t love to spend time with Louis, but there’s two things holding him back. He’s not too sure he could bite his tongue about his feelings for Louis while high, and he’s never been high before and the idea of it makes his heart race and his palms get clammy. 

He knows Louis would never force him to do anything he didn’t want to do. Louis’ not the kind of guy for peer pressure and for judging someone for _not_ doing drugs. But if Harry went to just hang out, he’s almost positive he would feel weird being sober while they were high. He wouldn’t want Louis to feel obligated that he has to entertain Harry. He wants Louis to just enjoy his high, but Harry also doesn’t want to turn him down this time and then risk not being invited to anything else. 

Which is why he ends up pulling out his phone and sending Louis a text that says, ‘ _Yes, would love to. See you tonight_.’

He spends the rest of his shift feeling like there’s vibrations running underneath his skin, quite literally buzzing, and he can’t tell if it’s from excitement or dread, but all of it adds up to anxiousness. His hands literally shake when he knocks on the door to Liam’s house. He has a brief second to wonder if Louis kicked Liam out for the night before the door is swinging wide open and Louis is pulling him in for a tight embrace.

“You know,” he says, while pulling away, “I didn’t think you’d actually come. Like, obviously I wanted you to come. But I didn’t think this was your thing. And now I’m worried that maybe it’s not your thing and you felt pressured to say yes. Which I hope is, like, not the case.”

Louis’ rambling, and it’s refreshing to see a side of him that’s not totally cool and confident all the time. It helps Harry feel more at ease when he’s so far out of his comfort zone he can’t even see it any more. 

“It’s not my thing, no.” Harry shakes his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “But I didn’t feel pressured. I like spending time with you and you inspire me to step out of my box. It’s cool.”

Louis seems soothed by this, opening the door wider and inviting Harry to step inside. Harry already smells the hint of weed in the air. The smokey haze to the air, especially evident by the ceiling lights, is another good indicator that Zayn and Louis have already started smoking. Harry doesn’t hear any loud yelling, so he can assume Niall hasn’t been invited, and Harry assumes that Liam is probably still at the gym.

“Haz!” 

Zayn calls to him from the couch, spread across the cushions and leaning his head back over the arm. He smiles dopily and his eyes don’t open all the way, but this is a Zayn that Harry is familiar with. He may not be much of a smoker himself, but he’s been around Zayn frequently after his smoke sessions. He’s just never been there for one - and even more than that, he’s never been a part of one.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says. His smile softens across his face as he closes his eyes. Harry wonders how much he’s already smoked before this.

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Louis whispers in his ear. His hot breath over Harry’s skin causes goosebumps to appear on his arms, and he can’t stop the shiver that runs over his body. 

Harry spins around to look at him. “Thanks for inviting me.” 

And he means it. Even though Louis probably assumes this is out of Harry’s comfort zone - and he’d be correct in thinking that - he still made sure to make Harry feel included. That’s just how Louis _is_ . That’s why he fit so well into their group. Zayn, Niall, and Liam always make sure Harry feels like a part of their group, no matter how many times he says no or cancels plans. Louis does the same, but there’s something different in the way he does it. It’s almost like he goes the extra mile to make sure Harry feels _wanted_.

Not that he thinks Niall, Zayn, and Liam don’t want him there, or something like that. He knows they do. But there’s just this extra something when Louis invites him or includes him. 

Louis sits down on the loveseat opposite Zayn, and pats the seat next to himself. Harry doesn’t even hesitate before plopping down. He hopes he’s not imagining the way that Louis scoots closer on the cushion they’re half sharing.

“Here’s how this is going to work, Haz,” Louis begins. “I’m assuming you’re never done this before-“ Harry can see Zayn’s head nodding out of the corner of his eye, “-so I’m going to roll us a blunt and you can feel free to smoke it, or you can just keep us company while we smoke it. No matter what you choose, I’ll keep you safe and make sure you don’t freak out or anything.”

“Lou, I trust you,” Harry says. He can see in Louis’ eyes that he still doesn’t necessarily believe it, but he just nods and doesn’t say anything else.

Harry wasn’t prepared for how interesting it is to watch Louis roll the blunt. Interesting and _hot_ . His eyebrows wrinkle together as he focuses on delicately placing the weed into the paper and then rolling it tightly. Harry thinks that’s the worst of it until he sees Louis _lick_ the paper to seal it together.

He must make a noise because Louis glances at him from the corner of his eye, and Harry can see the way the side of his mouth quirks up. He doesn’t say anything, however, and Harry appreciates it.

“First hit?” Louis asks, and he holds up the perfectly rolled blunt between his pointer finger and thumb. 

Harry sputters, moving his lips while no sound comes out. “Um, I. Uh.”

“Just kidding.” Louis laughs softly, but it’s not a mean laugh. More like a laugh like he understands Harry’s fears and he’s just trying to make him feel more comfortable. Harry’s not sure how well it’s working, but he’s thankful that Louis’ even trying. He doesn’t say anything else as he reaches for the vibrant pink Bic lighter and flicks it once.

He flicks it on again, this time using his other hand to hold the blunt to his lips and hover the flame over the exposed end. Harry watches it burn, and then Louis pulls the lighter away but keeps the paper pressed to his lips. He seems to be inhaling, chest rising, before pulling his hand away and holding his breath for just a second longer. Just as Harry starts to think maybe he should be concerned (why should he be concerned? Louis knows what he’s doing), Louis releases the breath he had been holding and smoke floats from his lips towards the ceiling.

“So now you’ve seen me do it once,” he says, like that’s all Harry needed to overcome his fears. “Now I’ll talk you through it, you can watch Zayn take a hit, and then it can be your turn if you want.”

 _If you want_.

There’s still no pressure, even though he’s come all the way (and by all the way it had been a thirty second walk down the street), and they’ve already started. Louis genuinely just wants Harry to do what he feels comfortable doing.

And Harry’s not too sure what he’s so afraid of. Yeah, he’ll probably cough the way he did sophomore year of high school when he wanted to impress the upper class men and skip class to smoke cigarettes with them. He might not inhale enough to even get high. He could say something dumb, but. They all say dumb things all the time, Harry included. _What_ is he so afraid of?

He watches Zayn do the same thing, except he opens his mouth wide and perfectly circular smoke rings come from his rounded lips. Harry knows he’s definitely not ready to pull a party trick like that.

“Hey, Zayn, would you mind heading into the kitchen and calling for a pizza for us?” Louis asks. Zayn nods, doesn’t even question it, and heads out of the room. Somehow, that makes this easier. Harry feels his shoulders relax and watches Louis take another hit.

“Do you really want to do this?” Louis looks at him, no expectation in his expression, lighter in one hand and smoking blunt in the other. “It’s just us.”

“No, yeah. I do.” Harry finds it’s the truth. He actually wants to do this. He’s always been curious, and he trusts Louis. Louis wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Louis hands the blunt over, his eyebrows still pulled together, looking somewhat hesitant. Harry tries not to shiver at the shock of their fingers brushing against each other. 

He darts the tip of his tongue out to wet his lips and rubs them together. “I’ll just.” He takes a deep breath and pretends not to notice the slight tremble in his fingers. “I’ll just. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, breathless and watching Harry intently.

The blunt, somehow, is still burning on the end. Harry gently places it against his lips, counts to three, and inhales. The smokey taste immediately feels his mouth, and it’s suddenly all he can think about. He inhales for what he think is the appropriate amount of time before pulling the paper away and continuing to breathe in. He holds it for a pause, and then lets it out. He watches it float to the ceiling the same way it had when Louis and Zayn hit it. Everything looks so hazy when he glances up, and he knows it doesn’t work that fast, but he’s feeling a little hazy.

“Want to take another hit?” Louis asks, but his voice is barely above a whisper and Harry almost doesn’t hear him. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, and somehow his voice is steady when he feels so shaky. He repeats the action, all the way to watching the smoke rise to the ceiling. The air around them feels tense and Harry doesn’t know where this is going, but he’s pretty sure he’s going to like it.

Until Zayn comes back into the room and the spell is broken.

“I ordered a pepperoni and a cheese because I couldn’t decide,” he says, oblivious to the tensions hanging in the air of the room. “And I call all leftovers. I don’t want to go to grocery shopping.”

Louis shakes his head, eyes clearing, and it really looks like he’s coming out from under a spell. “Yeah, whatever. That’s fine. Just let me know how much I owe you.”

Hours later, Harry is high for the first time. They’ve gone through three blunts as a group, and at first it had been overwhelming, all the new ways he was experiencing his senses, but by now it’s calmed down and he’s just enjoying the way he can only open his eyes halfway. 

Zayn’s snoring loudly in the armchair in the corner, and Louis kicks his shin with a socked foot from the other end of the couch. Each of them are laying with a head on an armchair, legs intertwined, and Harry doesn’t want to think too much about it.

“Want to go somewhere where we can talk and not disturb him?”

Harry nods and tries to detangle himself from Louis’ limbs, but his legs feel too heavy. He waits until Louis stands and can pull him up by the arms.

“You’re pretty useless right now,” Louis laughs. When Harry leans his entire bodyweight on him, Louis adds, “And extra cuddly. I get it.”

“Mhm.” Harry can only sigh and try to push his face further into Louis’ neck, making it extra difficult as they try make their way onto the porch. 

It’s a clear night, no clouds blocking the view of the stars. It’s at the turn of the seasons, where days are still warm, but nights aren’t too cold yet. Harry feels just comfortable enough with the heat from Louis’ body and the cardigan he wraps closer around his body. 

Liam’s old porch swing has survived maybe too many seasons to still be safe, but they take the risk and seat themselves. Harry doesn’t hesitate to curl into Louis’ side.

“Like a damn cat,” Louis says. “Are you purring? I think I hear you purring.” He laughs and scratches his fingernails through Harry’s hair. 

“Keep playing with my hair like this and I won’t be able to stop myself from falling in love with you,” Harry jokes. He mumbles into the sliver of exposed skin next to Louis’ collar, and he can feel the exact moment Louis processes the words. Harry freezes when he feels Louis freeze, and tries to figure out the best way to do damage control. It’s not the easiest because his brain is foggy and he can’t think in full sentences - which is likely why he said it in the first place.

“Maybe I want that,” Louis whispers. 

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“What makes you think I don’t mean it?”

Harry can’t process the scene unraveling before him. He sits up and finds Louis staring back at him - looking a little less fearful than Harry feels. 

“I think you’re a very careful person, Harry.” Louis reaches forward and brushes a strand of hair from Harry’s forehead. He lets his hand drop to cup Harry’s jaw, thumb rubbing against his cheek. “And I think sometimes that’s good, but sometimes you need to let your walls down. Or at least, make space for a door and let some people in.”

“I let you in,” Harry whispers. 

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, voice quieter than Harry’s. “Can I kiss you?”

Harry doesn’t realize he’s nodded until Louis’ dry lips are pressed against his and he’s forgetting how to breathe.

The kiss catches him off guard, even with the warning given to him. Louis’ lips are soft and slow and Harry doesn’t feel like he’s overexaggerating when he says it feels like everything around them freezes. Time feels like a foreign concept - it could have been seconds, minutes, or hours when Louis finally pulls away. 

“Was that okay?” Harry asks, voice scratchy like it is in the morning when he hasn’t spoken for hours. 

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that,” Louis giggles. “So, was that okay?”

“More than, actually,” Harry says, almost a sigh. 

“Good to hear.” 

Louis’ smile is as soft as Harry feels, not stretching all the way across his face, teeth hidden, but lighting his eyes. He reaches over and strokes his thumb across the back of Harry’s hand, and Harry forgets anything he could even think of saying. 

After a pause, he finally says, “Thank you.”

“What for?” Louis asks.

“For the ways you’ve helped me,” Harry says. “I was so stuck inside a box - a box that I had put myself in - and I don’t know if I was ever going to leave my box. But here I am, coming down from being stoned for the first time, kissing you on my best friend’s front porch.”

“I think I should thank you.” Louis swallows thickly and continues stroking his thumb against Harry’s hand. “Being here - here as in this porch, the coffee shop, this town - feels like when the sun comes out after a week of rain.”

“I think we’re good for each other.”

“I think so, too,” Louis agrees.

Louis is ignoring him.

It’s been four days since their kiss on the porch, and Harry hasn’t heard a single word. Not for lack of trying - he’s sent Louis a few text messages, and hasn’t received anything in return. It hasn’t even shifted from ‘delivered’ to ‘read at,’ which somehow hurts even worse. He’s not even opening them.

He isn’t sure what’s changed since then and now. They left on good terms that night, as far as Harry can tell. Louis even gave him one last kiss before Zayn walked him home for the night. 

The more time that passes, the more Harry starts to worry and overthink their night. Did he say something wrong? Did he misinterpret the whole night? He can’t think of even one thing he would have changed throughout the whole night, but obviously Louis feels differently.

On day five, Zayn notices. 

“Hey, where’s Louis been?” he asks, casually, but Harry can hear the words unspoken.

“Um, not sure.” Harry shrugs. “He hasn’t texted me in a few days. He must be busy.”

“Doing what?” Zayn snorts. “There’s like three things to do in this town, and coming to the coffee shop is one of them. Plus, he doesn’t even have a job. What else could he be doing?”

“He does have a job,” Harry defends. Despite actually being more than a little upset at Louis, Harry can’t sit here and let Zayn say anything bad about him. “He’s an author. That’s why he comes in here everyday. Which, as I’m saying it, makes it a little worse. Since this is, like, basically his job. Unless he’s writing from home. He could be doing that.”

“You’re rambling.” Zayn whacks him with a discarded towel. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight for close? I know it’s lonely and that Louis helped it be not so lonely.”

Harry shakes his head. “No thanks. I’ll just read this book I’ve been meaning to. I hadn’t had much time since Louis and I spent most of my shift just talking or whatever, so now’s my chance.”

“Cheer up, Haz,” Zayn says, face softening. “I’m sure whatever’s going on with him has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” The words sound like a lie even to himself.

Harry hadn’t really noticed how lonely it was closing the coffeeshop - it had been months since he’d done it alone. Ever since he met Louis, the man was in there tapping away at his laptop or distracting Harry from getting his nightly cleaning done. Now, Harry just sits sadly at ‘their’ table and watches out the window as the sun sets behind the buildings across the street.

Each time his phone buzzes, he tries not get his hopes up. Even if it were Louis finally answering him, Harry’s not even sure what he would say. He would want to be mad, but he’s sure in the end he would accept any excuses Louis had. 

Of course, it’s not Louis. It’s Niall or Liam or Zayn, sending him one funny text or another. Harry’s sure they’re all just trying to make him feel better, and he appreciates his friend’s efforts, but it just isn’t the same. There’s only one person he really wants to hear from.

When he cleans the machines for the night, he does it alone. He doesn’t have anyone to distract him. He doesn’t have anyone to keep him from realizing it’s actually after closing time and Harry hasn’t started any of his closing duties. He doesn’t have anyone to help him stack the chairs. No one sits on the counter while he mops the floor. 

For the first time almost half a year, Harry locks the door and walks home alone.

It’s a Thursday - a whole eight days since the last night Louis and Harry had spoken or seen each other - when Harry gets an email from the account ‘[ tommo28@gmail.com ](mailto:tommo28@gmail.com).’ He can tell instantly that it’s Louis by the address, but also the title line gives it away. ‘Oi, oi. My blood, sweat, and tears.’ Harry clicks on the email while he waits for his students to pile into the classroom. He wonders what this could even be, after a week of radio silence.

It’s Louis’s novel.

Or, at least, part of his novel. Maybe all of it, Harry can’t exactly tell.

The attached word document is almost a hundred-thousand words long. It takes his computer almost a full minute to load all the pages. 

He wishes he hadn’t gone and clicked on it because now he’s got to teach class when all he wants to do is read the pages sent to him and talk to Louis about it. His heart starts to race when he realizes he doesn’t even know if he can talk to Louis about it. Is he still avoiding Harry?

Looking over both his notes and the syllabus for the day, Harry thinks he might be able to get away with cutting the class short. He’s got nothing planned for the rest of the day, and tomorrow he doesn’t have to be at the coffee shop until the afternoon. He can spend the rest of the time until then reading the pages Louis has sent and hopefully talk to Louis himself.

He speeds through his shortest lecture yet, and all the students are excited that he lets them go so early. Nobody even stays behind to ask him any questions, and he thanks whoever’s looking out for him. He sends out an email to his classes that his office hours are cancelled for the day - not like anyone’s even gone to them once since the start of the semester - and heads home.

At home, he makes himself a cup of decaf tea and settles down on his couch with his laptop. He blows on the cup of tea, steam vanishing off into the air, while he waits for the laptop to start up, fan whirring loudly. It’s almost time for him to get a new one - he’s not sure how much longer this one will last. He’s been putting it off because it’ll be a pain to load everything on to a new drive and then upload that to a new laptop, but if he puts it off much longer it’ll crap out on him and he’ll lose everything anyway. 

Harry loads the email and watches as the pages appear before his eyes. He can’t wrap his head around the fact that Louis wanted him to be one of the first ones to read it - that Louis trusted him enough to send this to him. It’s such a large act from someone he only met half a year ago, but Harry gets it, is the thing. If he had something he held this closely to his heart, Harry’s pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to show Louis. It’s just confusing when Louis won’t answer any of his text messages, is all.

The words capture him from the beginning. Louis describes his characters magically, giving them each their own quirks and personalities. He writes the scenery so well that Harry can feel himself drifting away into the world that Louis has created. 

Hours pass by without him realizing. The sun has set well past the horizon by the time he finally glances up from his laptop. He has to squint through the dusk-like darkness of his room, eyes adjusting after staring at his screen for such a lengthy period of time. He notices that he’s two-thirds of the way through the document, and he’s enraptured.

Of course he had assumed that whatever Louis was writing would be good, but he didn’t expect to be so hooked. It had been a while since a book drew him in from the first word and kept him sucked in until the last. This was exactly what Louis’ book was doing to him, he thinks, as he dives right back in to the document. 

He comes to the final few pages of the book, conflict still unresolved. Harry can’t imagine Louis would write such an incredible story and then give it such a poor ending with no resolution, but he’s seen amazing authors make the same mistake plenty of times. 

As he comes to the end of the final page, he realizes that’s not exactly what’s happened. Louis _hasn’t_ finished his book. He’s sent Harry everything but the ending. He’s left out the resolution. He’s left Harry to ponder what happens to the characters. 

The characters that feel familiar, somehow.

Harry sends Louis a text message and hopes for the silence to finally end.

‘ _Read the novel. Can we talk?_ ’

Louis responds in the late morning, which is when Harry assumes he sees it since the message was sent at almost five in the morning. 

‘ _Can I come over tonight after you close?_ ’

Of course, Harry agrees, eager to see Louis again and also nervous about what’s going to happen. He can’t imagine what he even has to say after nine days of total silence. 

The day passes by painstakingly slow. Even less people come in to the coffee shop, which makes closing feel like it takes forever. None of the usual podcast episodes he listens to feel interesting enough, and he forgets to bring a book with him to read, so accustomed to having someone there with him to make the time fly. 

Looking at the bright side of things, without Louis there to distract him, closing takes little to no time. 

He locks the door and heads in the direction of his house, growing warmer with nerves the closer he gets. Before he’s had enough time to process it, he’s coming up on his porch and Louis is sitting there, huddled in on himself and looking worried. Like maybe he’s afraid Harry is going to tell him to fuck off.

Maybe Harry _should_ tell him to fuck off.

“Haz, I’m sorry,” he says, before Harry gets a chance to say even one word. “I had to finish the novel.”

“But the novel’s not even finished.”

“Okay, not what I should have said, hold on. Let me start over.”

“Can we start over inside? It’s kind of cold.”

Louis nods, standing from the steps and dusting his butt while Harry unlocks the door. Inside, Harry flicks on all the lights while Louis settles on the couch. Despite the tension hanging over the room, it feels slightly domestic. 

“Haz, can I explain?” Louis asks.

Harry takes a seat next to him on the couch, resisting the urge to press their knees together. He nods, staring down at his feet. He prepares himself to hear the worst.

“You scare me.”

Harry looks up, shocked. “That’s not what I was expecting to hear from you.”

“No, probably not.” Louis laughs a little to himself. “I got my heart broken by a man I _thought_ I loved less than a year ago. And I didn’t want that to happen again.”

“Not following,” Harry says. 

“The way I feel about you scares me.”

“How do you feel about me?” Harry’s heart is pounding, thoughts racing as he tries not to get his hopes up. 

“I’m very in love with you,” Louis says. “Like so much. I’ve never felt this way before, actually. It’s _terrifying_ in the absolute best way possible. So when I kissed you, I freaked out. This was the opposite of what I wanted to happen when I moved here. I moved here to protect myself and write this angsty breakup novel, but instead I wrote the sappiest romance novel in the world. My publisher’s going to have my head, probably.”

Harry can’t help but laugh under his breath. “You were trying to write something angsty? You definitely failed at that one. There wasn’t a single second where I felt anything but happy for the characters.”

“That’s my point!” Louis jumps up, excited. “It’s like. Um. Hold on. It’s like me! I came here to be angsty and brooding and write this dark novel, and then you come in to my life and here I am happier than I’ve ever been and my writing reflects that. Whoever said the best art comes from suffering is a liar.”

Harry stands from the couch too, unable to stop the smile on his face. He takes the step to close the distance between them, just stopping himself from reaching out and resting his hand on Louis’ hip.

“Can you promise me one thing?” he asks.

“Anything.” Louis nods earnestly, eyes wide.

“Please don’t run away when I kiss you this time.”

“Pinky promise.” Louis holds up his pinky, crooked and waiting for Harry’s to join. 

Harry hookes his pinky around Louis’, using it as a hook to close the gap between and connect their lips. It’s a soft kiss, similar to their first one. Harry feels Louis’ lips twitching as he fights to hold back his smile.

“How do you feel about me?” Louis asks. “I know it should be obvious but I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m very in love with you, too.”

“Can we kiss some more?”

“I have one more question,” Harry says. “Are you going to write the ending now?”

“Oh, the ending was already written. I was just afraid to show it to you before I found out how you felt about me. I was afraid it would be too obvious how I feel about you.” Louis laughs quietly, reaching up and pushing a piece of Harry’s off his forehead. 

“And how does it end?”

“Happily ever after.”

**Author's Note:**

> [fic post!](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com/post/189850854465/feels-like-were-finally-free-louis-just-wants)


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